


Fire and Bones

by UndoneSoul



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BFFs, Best Friends, Birthday Sex, Birthday Smut, Bottom Josh, Bottom Josh Dun, Confessions, Drinking, Drunken Confessions, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Smut, HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOSH DUN, I Don't Care If It's Your Birthday, Josh Dun's Birthday, Josh Dun/Tyler Joseph Smut, Josh in Love, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Manila Hotel, Oral Sex, Sticky, Top Tyler, Top Tyler Joseph, beautiful sticky sticks, josh's birthday, tyler doesn't care if it's your birthday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 09:31:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19248463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndoneSoul/pseuds/UndoneSoul
Summary: "I know, I know you can bring the fireI can bring the bonesI know, I know you make the firemy bones will make it grow"





	Fire and Bones

“Listen, you,” Josh says, grabbing Tyler by the front of his plain white t shirt and tugging him forward so he falls off balance a little. “It’s my birthday and you’re gonna drink with me tonight.” His pulse speeds up with this uncharacteristic display of boldness, but they rarely drink and he wants to.

The corner of Tyler’s mouth quirks in the near-darkness, four inches from his own. So close. So fucking far away. “What makes you think I care that it’s your birthday, Josh Dun?” 

Josh gently shoves him, mostly because he’s too damn pretty to look at so closely for long, and goes to get the bottle he’s been saving. “You always tell them at shows, for one,” he calls over his shoulder. “So they sing.”

“That’s because _they_ care,” his best friend replies, cracking open a Red Bull as Josh returns with the Jack Daniel’s. 

“Oh good, you already have a chaser,” he says, ignoring the teasing. He sits a little too close to Tyler, whose scent fills Josh’s nostrils, causing him to extend the breath he’s inhaling. His mouth waters. 

They’ve just finished an early show at a mall and are now holed up in a little motel in Manila, sharing a room as they always do. They’ve been bandmates for four years now, and Josh has spent nearly every day of them deeply and painfully in love with the genius ukulele player. If he could pay a witch for a potion to break it, he would have done so long ago. _La douleur exquise_ is not for the faint of heart.

But, luckily, soulmates is a broad term, and he wouldn’t do anything to fuck up the friendship they have, which is a rare relationship all in itself. If it never evolves into the vision he can’t shake, it will still be the most beautiful thing that has ever happened to him or ever will. There is no one like Tyler, and they belong to each other, whatever the label or level of physical closeness.

He still wants to fuck him silly. 

“But we need shot glasses,” Tyler complains, relaxing backward into the comfortable old couch. “And . . . birthday cake. Cake probably goes with that revolting Jack Daniel’s.” He sips from the narrow silver and blue can.

“Save that, you’ll want it,” Josh warns him, uncapping the liquor. “And really? Shot glasses, dude? You’re afraid of my germs suddenly?” He brings the heavy bottle to his mouth and tilts his head back, conscious of Tyler’s eyes on him as he gulps the harsh liquid once, twice; small swallows. His body gives an involuntary shudder and he leans back too, galaxy tree pressing firmly against black rings (Tyler gets a kick out of sitting on Josh’s right in private), warm skin on warm skin leaving him tingling. Touching Tyler feels like home. They’ve always been affectionate, touchy-feely. 

Only in his dreams is it anything more.

Tyler makes a sound of derision, putting his feet up on the nicked wooden coffee table and settling against Josh a bit more. The remains of their local meal soak into their paper plates; bits of lumpia, tomatoey beef mechado sauce, crunchy chicharon. Other exotic things. Tyler had picked it all and made the call, handing the phone off to Josh to handle the actual pronunciations. “No. I mean, it’s not like your tongue’s gonna be in my mouth.” 

Josh almost drops the bottle as he’s holding it out. “True,” he manages to say, hiding the flash of grief that it brings. He’s very good at it from all the years of practice.

Tyler takes the bottle, overlapping their fingers on the neck of it to send sparks through Josh, pulling it away leisurely. Josh loves his odd thumb, wants to suck on it. “I could eat more of that leche flan,” Tyler admits, this skinny boy who so covets sugary things. He eyes the liquor suspiciously before raising it to his lips to take one drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing, setting off Josh’s fantasies of what else he could be swallowing . . .

“Hot,” Tyler says as he makes a face and uses his Red Bull to get the taste out of his mouth. “Even the JD is hot. How is it raining and still this stifling weather?” They’d both taken showers after the show, but the air conditioner unit in the window hasn’t worked in years, from the looks of it, and the downpour closing them in gives little relief from the heat. 

Even so, neither break their sticky contact. They need the comfort it provides to fully ground themselves after the chaos and emotional overload of a show, even a small, echoey mall one. It has never mattered how many people were watching. The magic they make together is what’s important. 

But it’s still exhausting, and a let-down after; being together like this helps more than anything else, and they are accustomed to it. The crew know it and don’t bat an eye, even when they do it around them. The after-concert cuddle, they jokingly refer to it. 

“It’s pretty gross,” Josh agrees about the heat automatically, taking the bottle back and wanting to cover Tyler’s fingers in return but afraid it will be too obvious. He’s just glad his friend has agreed to drink with him; the singer does not like to be out of control and so usually refuses. 

A large part of Josh wants to get him out of control and see what happens, not that his expectations are high. While Tyler has been known to sashay with the best of them, he isn’t without his quirks, and that particular one doesn’t mean he’s queer. Regardless of how many falling stars and dandelion puffs Josh has entrusted his wishes too.

He sips from the black-labeled bottle, feeling it pool in his stomach with a heat not unlike the one his daydreams elicit. It had been Tyler’s turn to pick the after-show playlist, and the original Mad World can be heard on their little travel speakers. One of his favorite things ever was doing that cover together; tapping away at his drum pad on Tyler’s piano while his bandmate effortlessly picked out the notes on the tiny keyboard. Then the total eclipse of the red and magenta lights, switching places to the delight of the crowd. 

His dance is truly joyful in those fan videos that are almost too precious to watch. It is nearly a sacred thing indeed to see Tyler swaying in his favorite beanie, chock full of the music, anticipating him picking up the warm drum sticks after they secretly change places. Only he and Tyler are aware of their hand-squeeze as they pass in the dark each time, and the secret is a veritable treasure in Josh's heart. 

“So it tastes vile, but I mean, I’m feeling not-terrible,” Tyler says after a minute of comfortable silence. The need to fill it up never existed for them. Verbal language is only the final layer to a level of communication their souls have been on since day one.

Josh downs a little more, and it goes smoothly now. There are four bulbs above the scratched-up mirror on the wall, and the first thing they’d both noticed upon entering the room was that only one is lit. “This reminds me of playing seven minutes in heaven at this party in high school,” he reminisces, looking at the bottle. That girl had had amazing boobs. He loves bodies of all kinds, but right now the only body he’s interested in is flush with his, and fuck the heat. If anything they’re somehow closer now than they were a minute ago, and he is not mad in the slightest about it.

“That was one I never got to try,” Tyler admits, wrapping his fingers completely over Josh’s now when the bottle is offered. And keeping them there.

“No time like the present,” Josh quips without filtering, the alcohol clearly already working its way through his inhibitions.

Tyler continues to keep his hand where it is, looking around. “It is pretty much a closet,” he mock-agrees, finally drawing the Jack Daniel’s away and drinking some more. “No girls though.” He breaks bodily contact to lean forward, the air suddenly cooler where he had been touching Josh, and sets both bottle and can on the table. He uses his now-free hands to lift his damp shirt over his head, tossing it behind them. “Was it?”

Josh is thrown off by this non-sequitur, rendered half-speechless by Tyler’s bare chest, same as always. _What would it be like to touch him, really touch him, just reach out and trace a finger between the inked boxes, down to his navel, then lower, down to where those curly black hairs begin and taunt him mercilessly._ “Was what, what?” He tries hard to focus.

His friend turns toward him, dark eyes heavy-lidded, sultry, biting his lower lip. “ _Was_ it a girl?” The rain comes down harder, isolating them in their own inverted-snow-globe of a world, and there is no place either would rather be. “Or was it maybe a boy?” He smirks now, playfully, raking his eyes down Josh’s own shirtless body and back up to catch his gaze and hold it in a way that Josh dare not break.

Josh tries to speak, has no words, has no voice, shuts his mouth. 

Tyler shrugs, picking up the drinks again and resuming his position, though remaining turned toward him. “Dude. I’ve seen how you look at Will Smith; you don’t have to lie to kick it.” His amused words have been slowed down a notch or two, and the worry lines in his forehead that always want smoothing away are gone. 

Josh grasps at the dumb joke with both hands, forcing a laugh. “Yeah,” he says as the song switches to the beginning notes of Iris, one of Tyler’s favorite songs though he’s never told anyone but Josh that. “That Will Smith is so sexy.” He takes the bottle from Tyler and takes too large of a gulp, trying to calm down at being called out. Because called out he is. He coughs, and gets it under control as Tyler half-mockingly pats his back. He wants to drink more, but is afraid of what stupid thing he may say or do if he’s further inebriated. 

A man yells outside in another language, and a horn sounds. _And I’d give up forever to touch you,_ fills the air. _‘Cause I know that you feel me somehow. You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be, and I don’t want to go home right now._

The light is dim from the one lit bulb, and Tyler drains the energy drink, putting it on down hollowly with the liquor. “I love this song,” he says, settling into Josh once more. “I really do.” His words are slightly connected.

“I know.” Josh says absently, all of his senses drunk on being with his enticing friend. 

“I know you know,” he says, almost belligerently. “You know everything about me,” he continues, musing, tipsy. “Almost everything, anyway. It’s mostly convenient, I suppose. Disconcerting at times. No offense. Or full offense, as the kids say.”

Josh is flattered by the admission and figures it’s mostly true. “None taken.” He yawns, fully content on every level. “Or all taken, if you wish.” He takes off his red hat and tosses it toward the table, but it goes too far and lands on the other side. “Shit.”

“I love your hair that color, Jishwa,” Tyler says, scooting away from him for an alarming moment until the movement is explained by him patting his lap.

Josh snorts, touching his head, which matches the discarded hat. “You made me dye it this color, dude,” he reminds him, maneuvering himself to lay on his side with his head on Tyler’s legs, which are encased in plaid pajama bottoms, thin and soft. Josh knows from previous conversations that he doesn’t wear anything underneath them, and the thought makes him half hard. 

He tries desperately not to think of how close he is to Tyler’s dick.

“True,” Tyler agrees as he begins stroking the drummer’s hair, temple to nape of neck, slowly and lovingly. “So this song? Makes me think of you,” he says, not quite defensively, and Josh’s heart just about stops completely. “Don’t ask me to explain that,” he adds, almost in his theater fake-accenty voice. “Because I can’t. Just, so you know. It does.” 

_And I don’t want the world to see me, ‘cause I don’t think that they’d understand. When everything’s made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am._

“Okay,” Josh finally gets out, though it’s a whisper because of the lump in his throat. He thinks his chances of being in a dream right then are somewhere around 85%, but he’s trying not to question it too hard and wake himself up. 

“Okay then,” Tyler says easily, tugging one of his black gauges and sending a thrill down his spine. He stiffens more and prays Tyler can’t tell. “So? Was it a girl?”

Shit! “Yeah,” Josh answers, half in a trance from the gently stroking hand. “If only because back then the only kind of parties I was allowed to go to were the hetero ones,” he says before he could stop himself.

But he doesn’t need to worry. “Yeah,” Tyler echoes. “The struggle to mask was really real in high school.”

Josh is fuzzy-headed, and it takes him a few moments longer than it usually would to process that. When he gets it, he feels his eyes widen. 

“We could . . . play it now. The boy/boy version,” Tyler continues hesitantly, that ridiculous accent creeping into his voice, the one he uses when performing, most often if he gets too nervous. 

Josh concentrates on breathing, fervently hoping not to wake himself up, scared to move and break whatever extraordinary magic is at work. 

“Josh?” Tyler asks quietly, and the unsureness in his voice breaks Josh’s spell, so much so that he sits up again. He doesn’t dare meet the other boy’s eyes, because if this is just another joke it will surely destroy him. His lower lip trembles and he wills himself not to cry. 

“Are you . . . are you kidding, Tyler?” he asks in a wavering voice, knowing they’re on an incredibly thin line of some sort but unsure of what sides there are. His heart is pounding. Drunk in Love has been on for a minute and the lyrics kick in. _I've been drinking, I've been drinking, I get filthy when that liquor get into me, I've been thinking, I've been thinking, why can't I keep my fingers off you, baby? I want you._ When Tyler sings this cover during the Nigel bit, strolling around strumming his uke, Josh can barely remember what he’s supposed to even do on the fucking drums during those moments.

“If you need to go that route, I can be kidding,” Tyler finally answers, even less conviction and confidence in his tone.

Josh’s head snaps up and he’s snared by the windows to his best friend’s soul, where he reads nothing but truth and desire and trust. He shakes his head, unable to find words, let alone give voice to them. 

“Good,” Tyler answers, a satisfied smirk taking over as his cockiness returns and he straightens up. “Because I’ve been waiting a long time. And I hate waiting.” He leans forward suddenly, pressing his lips to Josh’s, parting them so his tongue can explore, tasting of Red Bull and bourbon. Their teeth clack together as the kiss becomes deeper and more desperate, intense with years of yearning, craving, disallowed and forbidden passion.

He finds himself on his back now, Tyler hovering above him after breaking away, licking his lip and wearing his desire like a mask has finally been removed. They’re both breathing heavily, and the tattooed arms on either side of him feel like a safety he’s never known. There is a grin on Tyler’s face, _the_ grin, the joyful one that shines so bright you can hardly look at it, like the sun. 

He dares to reach out and run his finger down to the curly black hairs spilling out of the waistline, but pulls away then because it is trembling too much to go further.

Tyler takes his hand though and places it without hesitation where Josh wants it, where they both want it, and Josh wraps around the rock hard length encased in the soft material, a whine now escaping his lips at the thought of what he's actually doing. 

Tyler groans, low in his throat, lust darkening his eyes. “The term _power bottom_ gets tossed around a lot,” he says casually, continuing to brace himself with arms that are deceptively strong, arms that strum and climb and hug so tightly. “And I don’t mind filling that position, so to speak, now and then.” He dips his head to gently bite Josh’s earlobe, stubble deliciously rough against his neck, making his dick jump. “But I kinda have my heart set on being inside of you, and we both know how I like getting my way.” He kiss-nibbles down his neck, biting his collarbone, and finally, finally lowers his delicious weight onto Josh.

Josh would do anything to make this happen, anything at all. “I’ve never . . . “ he begins, as he continues to palm Tyler wonderingly, because it seems important to mention that he’s never been with a guy before. Two girls at different times, in clumsy, rushed hook-ups, yes, but it can’t be the same. 

Tyler’s eyes widen a little, and Josh squeezes a little to distract him from the admission. He sucks in his breath sharply at the fondling, glancing down in what is clearly approval, and focuses on Josh again. “I’ll show you,” he promises, grinding his hips into Josh’s to make them both groan. He kisses him again, sucking on his lower lip, both of them rife with button-fumbling passion. “I can’t promise to be gentle because honestly, I’m probably gonna wreck you, but I’ll try.”

All Josh can do is nod breathlessly as Tyler tugs impatiently at Josh’s unbuttoned shorts until he lifts his hips and lets them slide off, his aching dick slapping against his stomach with a _thwack_ that embarrasses him a little. Then talented fingers are wrapped around him, squeezing as they slide up and down, and he shivers with the pleasure. Soft lips set in scratchy skin make their way down his body, and he realizes his eyes are closed, and the moaning sound he hears is coming from him. 

"So much waiting,” Tyler laments, stroking. “Open your eyes,” he says, and Josh does, watching him lower his head to swirl his warm, wet tongue around the head of Josh’s cock before sucking its entirety into his hot, velvety mouth. 

Josh spasms, his hand clutching the back of Tyler’s head, face fucking him as gently as he can as Tyler hums and cups his smooth balls, gently massaging. Thank God he took the time to shave them in the shower. He often does . . . just in case. A small bottle of lube appears and he can't believe Tyler has it nearby, because it can only be for this very reason. It makes him hot and shivery all over to consider. He feels a slippery finger circling and then probing, making him gasp with the unfamiliar but not unwelcome feeling. He forces himself not to come, fervently wishing it can all last forever. “Tyler,” he gasps, on the verge as the dark head drops again and a second impatient finger joins in the stretching exercise, but he wants it, and more. “Please, I’m so close,” he begs, not sure what he’s asking for because he doesn’t ever want him to stop but he isn’t ready to come yet and lose this unbelievable feeling.

The cooler air of the room replaces the beloved mouth, which is now sucking Josh’s balls in, gently tonguing them around as a third finger stretches him further, and now he is trembling, his dick twitching painfully as it searches for that mind-numbing ecstasy again. “Please,” he pleads again, and is rewarded with those soulful eyes meeting his even as the other boy licks from base to tip of his cock once more, teasing him, rising now to kiss him deeply.

“Are you ready?” he breathes into Josh’s mouth, grinding against him again before pushing off his thin pants. He bites Josh’s neck, adjusting to press the tip of his dick to the hole the plunging fingers have readied. “Are you, Josh?” 

Josh can only nod as Tyler pushes his legs back against his chest, thrusting into him at the same time, making a sound that nearly undoes Josh right then. He pushes back against the pain of it until it becomes pleasurable, Tyler’s right hand gripping his left thigh while the other strokes him in time to the thrusts he’s now matching. His eyes are closed again, his senses fully overwhelmed, and the hand leaves his leg to brush the sweaty hair out of his face. “Hey,” his best friend says, and he opens his eyes again to see the intensity on Tyler's face, the fire in his own eyes. “Love you, dog breath.” He links his fingers with Josh’s, breathing heavily with their steady rhythm.

Josh is coming undone, unraveling down to his very last cell, the galaxy on his arm nothing compared to the exploding colors in his mind and body and soul. “Love you, baby boy,” he breathes, shaking with the ravishment, with the realization of his every dream. His restraint gives out and he comes all over both of their stomachs with a rush that almost leaves him senseless, even as he’s filled from Tyler’s own spasming cock. 

Tyler pulls out and collapses on him, their softening dicks slick together between them, arms wrapping around each other, Tyler resting his head on Josh’s shoulder as they get their breaths back. “Fuck, Tyler,” Josh says in wonder.

“You just did,” Tyler comes back, and they both start giggling until they are out of breath again. “Oh my god, you’re so . . . sticky. We’re so sticky. Ugh.”

“Our sticky sticks,” Josh says stupidly, eliciting more tittering. They are giddy with relief and released sexual tension, and wow it’s fucking incredible.

“Our beautiful sticky sticks,” Tyler corrects him as the rain pours down the windows. He rolls to the side, grabbing Josh’s shorts and wiping them both off as their sensitive dicks flinch from the contact. He licks Josh’s one more time. “And they say I’m salty,” he quips, smirking. 

“C’mere,” Josh says, because he wants the other boy back in his arms and he doesn’t want to wait another second or ever let go. He reclines on the outside of the couch, and Tyler fits himself in the space left, protected as he always will be as long as Josh has any say in it. He’ll never let anything happen to this adored person, this love of his life. Tyler settles in his arm, his ear on his chest, and Josh kisses his head.

Tyler’s eyelids are drooping, and he yawns. “Used to say I wanna die before I’m old,” he sings softly, throwing a leg over Josh’s even though it’s too hot. “But because of you? I might think twice.”

“One, two, three, yeah yeah yeah,” Josh whispers, meaning _me too,_ which he knows Tyler knows. Now the tears are falling and he doesn’t even try to stop them. Joy takes many forms.

“I knew you’d be the one,” Tyler adds drowsily, lashes against his cheeks now, and Josh traces each eyebrow, down his perfect nose. He is real life clique art, and he is in Josh’s arms, and this is somehow not a dream. “Thank you for bringing the fire. I was so very cold.” His voice trails off and his breathing deepens.

“You’ll never be cold again,” Josh promises with all of his heart, and they live happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> the Manila show was actually on July 18 but I took some creative liberties here, don't @ me


End file.
